


Cookie Cutter

by TheVineSpeaketh



Series: Feels for a Friend [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Pansexual Character, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Fantasy, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVineSpeaketh/pseuds/TheVineSpeaketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You didn’t stick around, so how could you possibly know if you’re bisexual?”</p>
<p>Tony balked at the statement. “What are you saying,” Tony asked incredulously, staring at Bruce as if he’d grown two heads, “I should have stayed there and waited around until something deliberately homosexual happened?”</p>
<p>Bruce deadpanned. “Yes, Tony, that’s exactly what I meant."</p>
<p>Science Bros and Pepperony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie Cutter

**Author's Note:**

> Science Bros and Pepperony. I will fulfill every pairing with Tony in it with this series I SWEAR TO GOD
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the Science Bros shenanigans!

It was a normal day at the Stark household, and Tony and Bruce were holed up in his room, each with their noses in their respective books. While one of them was studying, though, the other was merely pretending to, his thoughts instead focused on the fact that he hadn’t slept much this week. Or eaten. It may have had something to do with the dark hair and green eyes invading his dreams, or the two blue-eyed blondes, or maybe all three in tandem with one another. He really couldn’t tell precisely what it was, but he blamed all of them just the same.

Tony jerked back to life and narrowly dodged the workbook being thrown at his head, turning quickly to the offender who actually threw the damn thing. He didn’t have time to call him out on it, though, because said offender was literally two feet from him and all he could do was do a barrel roll over his bed to avoid being absolutely clobbered and land squarely on the floor on all fours, scrambling to hide under its frame.

“Jesus Christ, Banner!” he cried out through his shock, keeping a wary eye on the two feet standing next to his bed. He was almost afraid that he would try to reach under it to grab Tony’s ankle and pull him out like something out of a horror movie. “What the fuck was that about?”

“You’ve been sighing for the last ten minutes, Tony,” Bruce replied, having apparently mastered his explosive temper once more. It was eerie, the way that Bruce could replace his original quiet exterior after having one of his explosions. Tony was quite used to dodging his attacks by now, being a key factor in Bruce’s frustration roughly eighty percent of the time, but it still didn’t take the edge off the strange way he could almost swap personalities like Jekyll or Hyde. “It has been getting increasingly difficult for me to study with you bemoaning something secret right next to me. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on or stop thinking about it?”

Tony stared at the feet for a little while, trying to think of something to say in return, but he couldn’t find anything. Was he just supposed to tell Bruce about the sudden epiphany he had in the café while surrounded by three gorgeous men? He didn’t think Bruce would really mind it, now that he actually gave it thought. He certainly hadn’t considered trying to talk it out ever since Steve “I’m-a-great-person-honest” Rogers fucked up his last attempt to get it out by being ridiculously adorable and slightly coy about matters, but maybe Bruce would be different. Maybe he would be a little more clinical about it. Hell, he would actually fit the description of clinical if Tony just asked him, that’s how amiable a person Bruce was. And his everyman face and his scruffy appearance could in no way sway him into thinking bad thoughts about him. Maybe this could work.

“Can I work out my thoughts with you, Banner?” he asked, still curled up under his bed and ready for another attack. A beat passed, during which Tony got a slight chill, before Bruce finally spoke up.

“Alright,” he said, and the bed creaked gently with Bruce’s weight. Tony watched his feet shift and turn until only the toes were brushing the floor before deeming it safe to crawl out from under the bed again. He did so with minimal grunting and moaning, trying not to earn himself another life-threatening blowout by Bruce. Tony supposed, as he brushed himself off, that the reason Bruce was so calm besides his moments was because he actually let the moments run his course.

He turned to Bruce, giving him a slightly sheepish smile, and Bruce smiled in return, completely sober and friendly. He patted the comforter next to him and scooted to the side a little bit, and Tony accepted his gracious offer, seating himself next to his best friend with a hint of apprehension about him. He instantly clasped his hands together, wishing he’d brought up the little spy RC he was making so he had something to tinker with while he talked.

“So, what’s the matter?” Bruce asked, looking directly at Tony. Tony couldn’t meet his gaze for the life of him, so he kept staring at a little burn mark on the floor, recalling vividly the incident that had caused it and Bruce’s adamant refusal to ever bring a blowtorch into Tony’s room, as well as vowing never to let Tony talk him into anything ever again.

“I think I like men.” It came out easier than he had thought it would, though he supposed using the blowtorch story as a buffer for his mind slightly helped ease it out. Bruce didn’t seem to have any visible reaction, at least, from what he could see from the corner of his eye, so he elaborated.

“Steve took me to a café he goes to a lot a few weeks ago,” he began, still messing with his fingertips and staring at that burn spot. “And of course the two most gorgeous people on this planet work there. Naturally, I had no idea that I found men attractive until, well, I saw these two.”

He looked up at Bruce, now suddenly animated by the mere mention of them, moving his hands as he spoke. “You had to see them to believe them, Bruce. They were both tall, but they were polar opposites of one another. The first guy’s name was Thor, and he was absolutely huge. His arms were like rock formations. His smile was like a wall of white lights. And his hair! He was frickin’ blonde, Bruce, with eyes like… Fuck this mushy crap, but you get it. And Loki was the other guy, completely opposite. His hair was really dark, like obsidian. He was clearly paler and thinner but he wasn’t scrawny. He was toned, too. I spent like twenty minutes staring at his arm and wishing I had some way to take it home with me.” He groaned, putting his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And then fucking Steve had to go and act all heroic and now I can’t look at **him** , either.”

“What did Steve do that prompted this reaction?” Bruce asked astutely, still listening intently. He probably thought it was hilarious. Tony didn’t want to take his hands away from his eyes to find out.

“I told Steve what was going on. I was hoping to bounce a few ideas off him, to figure out why I was acting like such a love-struck child, when he was suddenly acting all concerned about me. He started saying stuff like ‘Well, we can leave if you’re uncomfortable Tony’ and bullshit like that that got me thinking he was a great guy and doing all that stupid girl-on-prom-night stuff that I **do not do** , Bruce. This isn’t me. I’m Tony fucking Stark!” He said it like it was supposed to mean something, and by Bruce’s subtle nod, he could tell he got it. “I’m supposed to be wooing women and getting **them** to feel those feelings, not have them thrust upon me by a trio of hunky guys who hang out at a café.”

Bruce was quiet for a while. Tony didn’t want to look up from where he was resting in his hands and see whether or not Bruce was laughing quietly at him or was as pensive as the silence made him out to be. Finally, Bruce said, “What did you do after that?”

“What else could I do? I fled like Snow White,” Tony replied, huffing a sigh into his arm.

“Are you still interested in women?”

“Absolutely,” he said, the image of Pepper Potts running straight through his mind. God, she was gorgeous. He had never really wanted to go steady with anyone before, preferring to stay distanced from people, but Pepper was the one person he swore he would try his hardest for if he could just get the courage up to tell her how he felt. Yep. Still liked women, even if it was only just the one.

Bruce was quiet again, and the silence stretched on for a good few minutes. “That’s interesting,” Bruce murmured, a soft scratching sounding like he was scraping at his stubble.

“What is interesting, you dick?” Tony snapped, irritated, and he finally looked up from his hands. Bruce was a wall of stoicism, not at all afraid of Tony’s ire. They’d done things like this all the time before. He hadn’t become Tony’s closest friend by accident.

“You didn’t stick around, so how could you possibly know if you’re bisexual?”

Tony balked at the statement. “What are you saying,” Tony asked incredulously, staring at Bruce as if he’d grown two heads, “I should have stayed there and waited around until something deliberately homosexual happened?”

Bruce deadpanned. “Yes, Tony, that’s exactly what I meant,” he said, totally serious, but Tony knew he was messing with him. Before Tony could tell him just how much of a dick he was, Bruce continued. “No, but seriously. You could have stuck around and seen if your feelings persisted or if they were merely founded on the moment. That way you would have spared yourself the torment of going over them at present moment.”

Tony furrowed his brows, giving it some thought. “That’s actually sound,” he admitted carefully, his hands shooting back into his lap and his hands entwining. “But I have no way of going back in time and telling myself to stick around and figure that out.”

“True, true,” Bruce said, “so you’ll just have to run some tests. You could take one of the three gentlemen in question” —Tony laughed sharply at how detached Bruce was being about this—“and ask them to hang out, then gauge your reaction to their presence and base it on past crushes you’ve had. Simple as that.”

“Except I’ll need a control,” Tony said. “I already have the crush control—that is, a heterosexual or ‘normal’ crush—and I will be getting the homosexual crush as the experiment. Doesn’t that mean I need a control with a male I don’t have a crush on and who isn’t related to me?” Tony asked earnestly. He was really in his comfort zone now that he was figuring this as a scientific experiment. Bruce knew exactly where to put him to make him feel comfortable about freaky things. “Or is that going too far?” he added as an afterthought.

Bruce scraped at his stubble again, adjusting his glasses. “No, that seems warranted,” he answered, looking at Tony again, his eyes aglow with the possibility of scientific discovery. “That way you’ll have a good establishment of both romantics and platonics. All we need to do is find you a friend who would be willing to do this.”

The look on Tony’s face was one of frank expectance, and instantly, Bruce scooted backwards a bit, his usual sheepishness finally coming to the fore. He often got too comfortable in Tony’s presence, and this was one of those times. “No, Tony,” he said firmly. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“ **You** have a reputation to uphold? Do you have no idea who the hell I am?” Tony argued. “I have a lot more to lose from this than you do. It’s not like I’ll harp about it to every person I see. Come on. All we have to do is set up a few observations to make and do a few tests and then we’ll be done. We’ll never have to speak of it again.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed convinced. He moved forward a little bit, his eyes on the bedspread before looking up at Tony through his lashes and saying, in a softer tone, “Okay. You promise this will never be spoken of once it’s done?”

Tony raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor,” he replied, and Bruce, after glaring at him for a few seconds, finally sighed and acquiesced.

They spent the next half hour creating a list of observations for Tony to make, many which were intended to answered with a platonic response, such as “how comfortable around them are you?” and such. That question and those like it were at the top of the list. As the list progressed, the questions became geared toward less platonic emotions and perceptions, such as “how do they smell?” and “what do you observe when you look at their face?” The final questions were in case Tony found himself in a ‘potentially homosexual situation,’ as they deigned to call it, which was where he was within seconds of kissing/hugging/having sex with someone.

The list was then separated into three response columns; ‘Homosexual,’ ‘Platonic Male Friend,’ and ‘Heterosexual.’ Tony quickly filled out the ‘Heterosexual’ column before turning to face Bruce, crossing his legs on the bed and holding the notebook out in front of him.

“You filled out the whole list?” Bruce asked, and Tony nodded. “Well, then, I suppose we ought to get this over with.”

“Don’t be like that, Brucey,” he said soothingly, already filling in a few of the platonic responses.

“How comfortable are you when you’re with them” was answered with “absolutely”, “are they pleasant to be around” was answered with a “duh,” and “how often are you seen with them” was answered with “a reasonable amount.” All he had left in the designated “platonic” section were “is there anything about them that irks you” and “how long have you known them,” which he answered without giving much thought. He was unsurprised that Bruce’s occasional outbursts were not in the “irks” section, though he knew others might be if they ever saw the experiment. He’d known Bruce long enough to understand that if he wasn’t given his moments, then he may very well hurt someone he held dear, and Tony only knew the way Bruce felt after a near-hit. It was devastating to see his friend like that, so he didn’t begrudge him throwing his workbooks at people. Besides, it was just the workbook. If he’d really wanted to hurt Tony he would have thrown the textbook.

Tony finished his responses and looked at Bruce once more, giving him a thumbs-up. “Let’s go through the non-platonic responses, then,” Bruce said, spreading his arms and closing his eyes like he was about to be decimated and was gloriously accepting death.

Tony nodded, suddenly nervous, and looked down at the paper. The first on the list was “how do they smell?” to which he wrinkled his nose. Really? Did they have to start with something that creepy? Nevertheless, he steeled himself, leaning forward and getting close to the crook of Bruce’s neck, sniffing very gently so as not to disturb him before leaning back, finding himself satisfied with Bruce’s scent. He smelled very gently of cologne, with the slightest hint of peppermint. It wasn’t too bad, actually. He marked that down.

Next up, “does their smile make you smile?” This one wouldn’t be too hard. Bruce laughed at the absurd; he’d just tell him something random. “Hey Bruce,” he said, pretending to doodle on the side of the page, “did you know that when a female dog gets fat her back tits start to sag?”

Bruce’s eyes shot open and he fixed him with a blank stare that slowly turned into peals of laughter. “What the fuck, Tony,” he said in between bouts of laughter. “Why the hell would you tell me that? Was that really fucking necessary?”

And though he found Bruce’s responses amusing, he did note that he found Bruce’s smile and laughter quite infectious. He stifled a few giggles of his own and put down “yeah” without a second thought, then looked on to the next question, allowing Bruce a moment for his laughter to die down.

“What do you observe when you look at their face?” Oh, boy, he’d really have to go in depth with this one. He looked up, taking discreet glances at Bruce as the man started calming down, attempting to see just what he thought about Bruce’s face.

Well, to begin, he had olive skin, Tony supposed, with a strong jaw that ended in a slight cleft at the chin. It wasn’t big enough to be obnoxious, but it wasn’t unnoticeable, either. His cheekbones were well-rounded and complemented the overall strength of his face. A dark stubble coated his jawline, emasculating him almost without trying, and his equally-dark hair flopped over his forehead, dusting just barely at the top of his eyes. His glasses, though large, did little to hide the fact that his eyes were delightfully brown and… beautiful, actually. And his smile, though fading at this point, was still guileless and graceless, as all his expressions were.

“He’s beautiful,” he wrote in the space without thinking, but there was little to be done for it now.

“Do you have a favorite feature of their body/presence?” was the next question, and he responded with all that he felt he loved about Bruce; the awkward flop of his hair, the stupidly big glasses, the way his large hands could still handle small, delicate science equipment as if his life depended on it. Tony jotted these things down, and suddenly had an image of those broad hands grasping his waist, pulling him in and sealing him tightly to him, his fingertips wandering just below the waistband of his jeans—

Tony fell off the bed. The pen went flying, the cap hitting the ceiling fan and ricocheting off into the deep recesses of his room, almost certainly never to be found again. Tony had scrabbled away from Bruce so quickly he’d forgotten that there was no bed behind him and had fallen flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him completely.

“Whoa, Tony,” Bruce said, instantly moving across the span of the bed to where Tony once sat and looking down upon him, his face ridiculously half-hidden behind the comforter, the only things visible his stupid eyeglasses and his floppy hair. “You okay? What happened?”

“I threw off the Emperor’s groove,” he responded, winded, and he closed his eyes, just allowing himself a moment to catch his breath.

“Do you need any help?” Bruce asked, still peeping like a chipmunk or something. It was adorable. It was fucking ridiculous.

“Yeah, I would appreciate it,” Tony replied, and Bruce stood up, straightening himself before reaching down, grasping Tony’s hand and pulling him to his feet again. Tony admired the way he handled most of Tony’s weight before realizing that Bruce was reassuringly patting his shoulder and still hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Clearly you were just a little spooked. You need sleep, Tony,” he was saying, but Tony wasn’t listening, because all Bruce had to do was slide his hand up to his shoulder and curl around the back of his neck and he could easily wrestle him into a kiss. They could sprawl over the comforter with Tony pinned beneath him and Tony wouldn’t care—

“Oh my God,” Tony cried out, scrambling again and this time falling to the floor of his own volition, crawling under his bed and putting his hands to his ears, closing his eyes and blocking out all outside stimuli. He needed to think. He couldn’t be gay, could he? He tried to think of Pepper, of her beautiful strawberry hair, of her sharp wit and her “take-shit-from-no-one” attitude, the smooth yet almost militant curves of her slightly-toned body, the beauty of her feminine control…

And he suddenly realized everything and nothing at the same time. Because thinking about Bruce and his hands and his hair had definitely done some rather pleasant yet unpleasant things to his nether regions, but so had thinking about Pepper in her gym clothes and her hair falling between her shoulders and the graceful curve of her neck.

“Tony?” Bruce asked, sounding slightly concerned. Tony opened his eyes to find Bruce kneeling on the floor, peeking under the comforter with wide, owlish eyes and furrowed brows.

Tony uncurled himself slightly. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Banner?” he asked, staring incredulously back at his friend.

Banner just laughed, a slightly self-deprecating sound. “You’re asking the wrong person,” Bruce replied, and he stood up.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://exacteyewriting.tumblr.com)


End file.
